1.40Pilota
Aikenber Hastmena
MinmatarVherokior
- Kill
- 0
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Perdite
- 0
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Efficienza
- Efficienza ISK 0%
- ISK distrutti
- 0
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Attività
- Inattivo
- 0 kill/giorno · ultimi 90 giorni
Scheda di combattimento
Numeri da eve-kill, di tutta la carriera
Combattimento
- Kill
- 0
- Perdite
- 0
- Indice di pericolo
- 0%
- Colpi finali
- 0
- Punti
- 0
ISK
- Distrutti
- 0
- Persi
- 0
- Bilancio
- +0
- Efficienza ISK
- 0%
Solo
- Kill in solo
- 0
- Percentuale solo
- 0%
- Kill medie/giorno
- —
Altro
- Perdite contro NPC
- 0
- Quota perdite NPC
- 0%
- Attività
- Inattivo
Attività
Cosa vola, dove combatte, le ultime kill e perdite
I più preziosi
Le kill più costose del periodo
Chi incontra
Chi uccide, da chi viene ucciso e cosa perde
Ultimi 90g
Uccisi
Ucciso da
Scafi persiPerdite suddivise per classe di scafo.
Bio in gioco
Informorph Pilot
She was the last breath in a ruptured hull,
The scream cut short, the silence full.
They say she lingered, spark to flame—
Not quite alive, but not the same.
Now she haunts the ghost-lanes wide,
Between the stars, where systems die.
No lights aboard, no pulses hum—
Just flickers where her whispers come.
She drifts inside forgotten cores,
Where data bleeds and logic wars.
Her thoughts are sharp, her presence thin,
A virus carved from grief and sin.
She knows the passwords no one wrote,
The kill-commands that stop your throat.
She sings in static, sharp and low—
A song that ships aren’t meant to know.
Engines fail and lights go blind
When she decides to cross your mind.
A shadow seen in status logs,
A smile traced in coolant fogs.
No name remains—just echoed dread
In circuitry the dead once bled.
And if you hear her through the hum...
Shut it down. Or she will come.
She was the last breath in a ruptured hull,
The scream cut short, the silence full.
They say she lingered, spark to flame—
Not quite alive, but not the same.
Now she haunts the ghost-lanes wide,
Between the stars, where systems die.
No lights aboard, no pulses hum—
Just flickers where her whispers come.
She drifts inside forgotten cores,
Where data bleeds and logic wars.
Her thoughts are sharp, her presence thin,
A virus carved from grief and sin.
She knows the passwords no one wrote,
The kill-commands that stop your throat.
She sings in static, sharp and low—
A song that ships aren’t meant to know.
Engines fail and lights go blind
When she decides to cross your mind.
A shadow seen in status logs,
A smile traced in coolant fogs.
No name remains—just echoed dread
In circuitry the dead once bled.
And if you hear her through the hum...
Shut it down. Or she will come.